<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Subject 5C3 by AJGhostWolf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405188">Subject 5C3</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJGhostWolf/pseuds/AJGhostWolf'>AJGhostWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Works</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Human Experimentation, Mad Scientist, Multiple Personality Disorder, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Why Can't I Write Nice Things??, Why Did I Write This?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:35:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJGhostWolf/pseuds/AJGhostWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There exist some people bound by no medical code, insatiably curious about medical phenomenon, and unstoppable in their unethical pursuits. They call themselves doctors and professors, but they may be no more than disillusioned maniacs. Disillusioned maniacs, who have your number. Ring ring.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Subject 5C3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ah how dearly I wish I could be my mother's golden child and write only happy sappy love stories where people are okay and the world isn't scary . . . . alas, I am insane and highly sadistic. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and lemme know whatcha think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>D.B. hummed to himself as he half-waltzed down the corridor, every other step a skip and his song cheery. His white lab coattails flapped behind him in his own little wake. As he whirled like a broken marionette puppet, all loose limbs and swirling clothing, he frowned and seized one of the tails, bringing it up close to his face and cranking his body into a strange and twisted position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>D.B. pursed his expressive, liver-colored mouth and pouted at the stain for a moment before twirling the handful of cloth back over his shoulder in a jerky, coat-hampered movement and resuming his cheerful little waltz down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dank little room lay at the end, separated from the long concrete hall by only a jailbar-esque rebar wall. The Room was cold and hot at the same time, all concrete and rebar and pain. There was a drain in the center of the slightly sloped floor, and a sprinkler at the top that was more akin to a firehose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>shape</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the corner, looking more a bag of bones than anything vaguely human. There was no discernable movement from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>D.B., still humming and now alternating randomly to whistling, gleefully whipped out an immaculate clipboard and studied the thoroughly scribbled lab paper thereon. After a moment he looked with a wide, crazed grin on his bloodless features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Subject 5C3, how are you doing today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bag of skin didn’t move, but the eyes of ‘5C3’ could be seen through the darkness. Full of hate, anger, fear, and soul-crushing defeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“5C3,” D.B. said in a half-whining, half-giggling tone as he again studied his papers. “I see you completed the starvation period and began the dehydration period yesterday, how are you feeling about that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>5C3 again did not respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>D.B. stared a moment, then waved it off boredly. “Oh nevermind, we’ll progress as usual then.” He frog-stepped himself goofily over to a breaker switch on the wall, and 5C3’s eyes seemed to drain further into their skull with despair. D.B. just grinned back at them before pulling the lever, sending a jolt of electricity through the wired electrodes attached to various places on 5C3’s naked body, none of them terribly original or pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>D.B. listened to 5C3 howl in animal pain for a while before again becoming bored and flipping the switch off, watching with mild interest as 5C3 beat their head back against the wall, hard. </span>
</p><p><span>“Do have to start the morning off right,” he commented with a wide psychotic grin. “Now, let’s see here . . . . your file says that you’ve progressed to five shocks every morning--good for you! There’s one down, only four to go! After that we move on to the acid, and then of course you’re being reintroduced to the baseball bat, I’m sure you’re excited for that. Oh! And of course we mustn’t forget the lash this evening, it’s the real </span><em><span>coup de grace</span></em><span> of the evening,</span> <span>should you catch my drift.” He snickered for a moment and then flipped the switch again to watch with bright, excited eyes as 5C3 as they writhed in agony on the cold, rough concrete floor, hope fading with the control of their muscles. </span></p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>